


Clean Slate

by ananonwriter



Category: Glee
Genre: Amnesia, M/M, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-15 11:19:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5783401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ananonwriter/pseuds/ananonwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Sebastian awakens from a coma following a car accident with very little memories but something, someone, finally gets through to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clean Slate

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt is from the 2016 One Year, 52 Stories writing challenge which I am planning on attempting. As you can tell I am a little behind but I hope to catch up and stay on track. This is unbeta’d so any mistakes are my own.  
>  Prompt: Week 1- Write a story about starting again.

It hadn’t been long since he’d awoken from the accident, although the accident itself had been long ago enough that his body had mostly physically recovered. Cuts had healed, a few leaving pinkish scars in their wake, bruises had faded, bones had been set and cast again. Sebastian, they called him; first a nurse, and then a doctor, before two women, striking in their similar looks, ones he discovered he shared once he’d been presented with a mirror. The same green eyes shone back at him, similar dark hair. “We’ve had people come by to shave you and keep your hair trim and clean. Your nails too,” the older of the women, his mother, explained. 

His father was a tall man, hair graying at the sides and eyes a chocolate brown, surrounded by lines. He was gruff but smiled at Sebastian a few times when he made simple connections to his so called life. It had been an automobile accident, that thankfully no one, save him, had been injured in. The younger of the women, younger than he even, his sister, couldn’t stop fussing over him, constantly clutching his hand. He noticed a diamond ring on her finger, an engagement ring, but no mention of her fiancé was made. A curious study of his own hands revealed a platinum band on his hand. He was married. “My…” his mouth could barely produce the seemingly foreign sound wife, and so he just held up his hand gesturing to the ring. 

“Soon darling,” his mother cooed, smiling bright that he’d remembered something again. His father seemed less impressed this time. Sebastian closed his eyes against the bright late morning sun. Warmth shining on his face reminded him of another sunny day. A small black car, a convertible perhaps, and the sound of a hearty laugh. Short, dirty blonde hair and golden skin, along with the feeling of something scratchy and something else soft and silky beneath his fingers. 

He opened his eyes to the sound of heavy footprints in the hall. They moved closer and closer to his room. A man in uniform entered without reservation, his hair dark blonde and short, a dazzling smile plastered on his face despite the location. Sebastian remembered another uniform; grey slacks, white shirts, and navy blazers with red piping. The walls were paneled in dark wood and the air was musty. He remembered music; singing. A younger version of this man held a long haired, silky snow white cat in his arms. “I’m Hunter Clarington,” the man said, his voice melding with the younger version in Sebastian’s memory. In his arms he held a white teddy bear now and as he offered it to Sebastian, green eyes spied the same platinum band. Sebastian smiled at the man; at Hunter, his husband.

“I think I remember you,” Sebastian whispered. 

“You’d better Smythe,” the man replied, his voice choked with emotion and Sebastian could see tears glistening in the corners of his eyes even though he was smiling. 

Sebastian curled his fingers into Hunter’s uniform and pulled him down, until they were face to face. Sebastian’s eyes drifted down, and his fingers traced the name over the chest pocket of his uniform. Clarington, it read. He looked back up at Hunter, back at this familiar face, these kind and loving eyes. “Don’t you mean Smythe-Clarington?” he asked, a little unsure.

Hunter crumbled against him, and Sebastian inhaled the scent of his cologne; warm and familiar, spicy and outdoorsy. “I knew you’d come back to me ‘Bas,” he murmured wetly. “I knew we weren’t done yet.”

“I’m here,” he whispered. “I don’t remember everything about us, but I want to.”

Hunter pulled back and wiped at his eyes. “You will. And even if you don’t, just as long as you remember we love each other, that’s enough for me. After everything we’ve been through, that’s all we’ve ever needed.”


End file.
